


The canyons between us

by Rinusagitora



Series: Shinigami!Karin AU [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Other, Shinigami Karin, some implied ships but it's mostly focused on them lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinusagitora/pseuds/Rinusagitora
Summary: Time may heal wounds, it doesn't heal her vitriol.





	The canyons between us

She sat in the worst seat of the entire establishment. The sun blinded her to her right and her chair was underneath a chilly vent, but it was a secluded corner she wasn’t disturbed in.

Most of the time, at least. Tokyo was a busy city. While coffee shops were a world apart from the bustle outside-- a separate reality altogether between the few patrons and their own reclusive behaviors, like a library-- she had been approached by lonely businessmen on supper leave whom thought a solitary girl meant social hour for them. She didn’t care to feed those individuals the attention they craved. Thankfully, those were rare occurrences, so she was left to meditate on whatever changes in her life.

When had the universe ever been kind to her, however? One wrench after another was thrown into the fragile perfection of her life. Her upcoming transfer was one thing, _he_ was another.

She cursed upon registration of Ichigo’s reiatsu, collected her pager and her frappe, and briskly strode for the door. Even years after her turbulent adolescence, Ichigo was the last person she wanted to run into in the World of the Living. Luck was never on her side. She collided with a broad-shouldered gentlemen. Thankfully, her coffee was safe, but she nearly toppled over in her tall pumps as she back-pedalled.

Her gut churned before she even cursed. Ichigo was thinner than she remembered, and the bags under his eyes were only shades lighter than his irises. There were medical journals and a formidable textbook whose title she couldn’t make out under his arm. Her instincts screamed it was time to run, but she was rooted in place with a dumb look as they looked into each other’s eyes. 

“Karin?” Ichigo began. He grinned and laughed then. “Oh my god, it’s been so damn long. How’ve you been?” he asked as he pulled her into a hug.

Her throat cleared. “Splendid,” she responded as she pushed out of Ichigo’s hold.

“Do you have time to sit down? I mean, you look like you’re on leave,” Ichigo said as she looked her up and down. Her lips pursed. She was, and while she didn’t wasn’t thrilled to humor Ichigo, it was harmless in the long run. She was an instated officer, Ichigo was a fucking hero but he had no more authority over her life. She was out of his reach.

“Can we sit outside? I need to smoke,” she replied.

“Those’ll kill you one day,” Ichigo joked. 

“Yep,” she lamely replied as they strode to the wiry tables cordoned off from the sidewalk with a short fence. That was funnier when Izuru said it.

She stuck a cigarette between her teeth from her clutch-- an expense, black stick with a gold film over the butt that tasted the same as any other cigarette but looked nicer with her leopard print flares and vinyl bustier. She lit it with a plain zippo. Ichigo watched all the while, as if he took in her unchanged body. He looked almost ten years older and she looked just the same as she did when they fished her out of the river.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised to see you here, Kurosaki. I come to Tokyo to avoid bumping into people I knew from Karakura. It’s kind of hard to explain away how I’m here when I’m supposed to be dead,” she confessed. “I assume you’re here for school, though.”

“What the hell are you doing calling me Kurosaki, you fool? We’re family. We’ve had problems in the past but I’d like to think we liked each other more than that.” Ichigo laughed like it was a joke. “How’ve you been? You’re looking good, at least. Rukia tells me you’ve taken the Seireitei by storm.”

Of course Rukia told him. “When I told you I was meant to be a shinigami, I meant it. My skills are put to use there.” 

“Why don’t you and Rukia talk more? I thought you’d gravitate to a familiar face.”

“I don’t because she talks,” she said dryly.

Ichigo scoffed. “Karin, that’s normal. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to understand that people talk about you. We care. I like hearing that you’re doing well.” Ichigo didn’t beat around the bush. She almost felt like she watched an impending train wreck.

“It’s Hinamori to you,” she began. That was cold of her, but all she felt was animus as she sat across from her late brother. The years of hurt came back to her. She didn’t want to get back at Ichigo, she was bigger than that, but she couldn’t deal with Ichigo with the grace she could with other insensitive gentlemen. He was a special case. “Kurosaki, my life isn’t her business. It’s not your business anymore either. Kuchiki hasn’t made an effort to reach out to me in the seven years I’ve been in the Seireitei. Going off what you just told me, she doesn’t care about me, she’s a gossip-monger. I don’t care to humor those sorts of people.”

“Rukia? _A gossip-monger?_ That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say. Nobody knew how to talk to you after that. And I’m not gonna call you Hinamori. You’re my family. That hasn’t changed just because we haven’t spoken in a few years,” he snort.

“I died. We haven’t just not spoken in a few years, I killed myself. You need to visit a doctor if you’re still in denial about that. And no, I’m not your family anymore. Yuzu disowned me.”

“That’s not--” Ichigo’s protest died with a sigh and a desperate screw of his eyebrows. Her stare killed it, she knew, the silver of her eyes were like knives. There wasn’t much room to argue when she looked like that. At least Ichigo had learned one thing over the years.

Despite her remark, Ichigo sat perfectly still. He stared at her as she puffed smoke rings. Call her the ice queen because that hurt puppy dog look of his only annoyed her. She killed herself, and yet Ichigo had the gall to act like he was the victim. She grew more disgusted with him every time she so much as looked at him.

“... why did you jump?” Ichigo asked. “I can’t piece that together. I spent the first year after that without sleeping trying to figure that out.”

She couldn’t believe it wasn’t fucking obvious. Ichigo was famed, but she was convinced he had everyone fooled when he was such a bonehead when it came to his relationships. “The World of the Living was toxic for me. I never fit in anywhere. I wasn’t good at anything but sports, I had no prospects aside from the clinic, the only people who actually cared about me were Jinta and Ururu. I jumped because the Soul Society was my only chance to lead a happy life,” she explained. “If you had an ounce of love left for me, you would be happy for me.”

But he wasn’t happy for her. She was a plaything to Ichigo, fodder for his hero complex.

They were quiet again. What more was there to say? Once, she loved her brother. But that was a long time ago. All that was left between them was years of vitriol. Even blood was diluted by tyranny. She had a new family-- new brothers, new fathers, new sisters, a loyal lover-- there was no more room for the Kurosaki in her new life.

“I’m… I’m getting married,” Ichigo told her.

“Congratulations,” she replied plainly.

“I’d like if you could come to the wedding. Everyone who’s coming knows about shinigami, so you won’t draw suspicion,” he continued.

She wanted to tell Ichigo she really didn’t give a shit. That was juvenile of her, however. She and Ichigo brought the worst out in each other even then. Her disdain made her gut rot. They were poison to each other, Ichigo just had yet to realize that.

“Don’t count on it,” she said. She downed the rest of her coffee, slid out of the chair, and left without so much as a palpitation of her heartbeat as Ichigo’s quiet sob followed her out.


End file.
